Trapped Freedom
by Maudie Stirling
Summary: Gale's idea seemed so exciting, so wonderful. To leave this place, where most of the population is dying of starvation. I never even began to imagine the consequences ... Katniss decides to leave District 12 with Gale, but will she ever be free of President Snow's malevolence?
1. Chapter 1 - Katniss' POV

**Hey, guys! Thanks for picking my story to read. I hope I don't disappoint!**

**Disclaimer: Do I really, actually need one? No, I didn't think so. Proceed ...  
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_One__ - Katniss' POV_

Rays of sunshine peek through the canopy of leaves, creating dancing patterns on the soft dirt ground. My quiver of arrows bounce on my back as I run into the woods. I want to get as far away as possible from those horrid banners and the temporary stage that is every 12-18 year old's nightmare to stand on.

I finally arrive on the familiar rock ledge jutting out over the valley, where my best friend awaits. He grins when he sees me. "Hey, Catnip. Look what I shot." Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh. I can see it's real bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves we make ourselves. I take it in my hands, pull out the arrow and inhale the mouth-watering scent.

"Mm, still warm," I grin. "What did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," says Gale with a short laugh. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" I say quietly. Then I perk up. "Prim left us a cheese." I gave it to him.

His expression brightens. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast." Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket, the ridiculously dressed woman from the Capitol who comes each year for the reaping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" He picks a few berries from the blackberry bushes around us. "And may the odds –" He tosses a berry in a high arc towards me.

I catch it in my mouth, and taste the sweet juice flooding into my mouth. "– Be _ever_ in your favour!" I finish the well-known phrase.

Gale takes out his knife and slices the bread equally, spreading goat's cheese on each portion. He sets them on basil leaves, while I strip the bushes of their fruit. We lay back in a curve in the stone. For an instant I almost forget about the reaping, feeling the warm breeze on my skin and looking out over a lush valley under the perfect blue sky.

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly.

"What?" I ask.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale. I am speechless. The idea is so preposterous.

"If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly.

He meant our siblings, of course. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. My Prim. And you may as well add our mothers, too, because how would they manage without us hunting for the family?

"I never want to have kids," I say. The idea of watching them get murdered in the Hunger Games is too horrendous.

"I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale.

I am quiet thinking it through. Perhaps our families don't need us so much, after all. Prim's goat, Lady, was making more and more milk everyday. She could sell them for double the price of three of my squirrels. And Gale's brother, Rory, was already making some money doing odd jobs. Plus my mother is getting paid for her medicines and healer-work, and Gale's has a job as a washer woman. Surely they wouldn't suffer too much without us?

"It's a possible idea," I murmur.

Gale turns his body to face me. His eyes sparkle with hope and excitement. "You're being serious?"

I stay silent, thinking this choice over. District 12, where people could starve together in safety, verses a wonderful new world where food was just in the tree above you.

"Yes," I say finally. "If _you're_ serious."

"Katniss, I've been waiting for this since two years ago! I just wasn't sure if you'd trust me." He rests his forehead on mine.

"Okay," I say after a moment. "We'd better get some provisions, in case things don't work out in the first few days." He leaps up, and begins to pack the leftover food that we haven't eaten into his backpack.

"I'll get the rest of our bows," I decide. "And drinking water." At the creek, I also spear some fish. Anything that we might need, I'll take.

When I arrive back, Gale is weaving some tough vines together to make rope. "Good idea," I say, putting our waterskins into the backpack. "I'm just going back to get something."

"Take some animals with you," he said, looking up. "And leave a note."

My father's last gift to me, a silver locket with a faded photo of us together, taken by my mother before Prim had been born. It is in a tiny leather bag, under my pillow. To my relief the bedroom is empty; no doubt Prim is getting ready. It is an unwritten tradition throughout Panem for everyone to look their best at reapings.

I sneak through the window, and tuck the pouch into my pocket. Then I lay half of the bunch of kills on our table. The rest are for Hazelle, Gale's mother. I find a piece of paper and a pencil, but realize I don't quite know what to write. There's no right way to tell a mother that her eldest daughter was leaving, running away from horrors that she and her younger daughter still had to endure. My sureness flickers – should I really do this? Then I think of Gale, and how he has his name in forty-two times. What if he is picked today? I decide to just not leave notes; surely our families would understand.

I make my way to Gale's home, and leave the rest of the animals on their doorstep. As I leave, I hope Hazelle, Rory, Vick and Posy good luck. Gale's father died in the same accident that killed mine.

I get to the 'electric' fence, and turn back. "Goodbye, District Twelve," I whisper, and lift three fingers to my lips like a salute. It's a gesture of farewell to a loved one, and though I had to struggle through many hardships here, I know I will miss it.

"There you are," says a voice behind me. Gale wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"You'll miss it, too?" I ask.

He snorts. "This – this befouled place? Where you are kept under control by Peacekeepers, and whipped to shreds if you break a rule?"

"The Peacekeepers aren't that bad," I protest.

Gale laughs. "So now you're on the Capitol's side. Make up your mind, Katniss, because we have to go soon."

"I meant people like Darius … I hope he doesn't get in trouble when they find out we've gone." I'm suddenly worried that our friends and family will be hurt because of our actions.

Gale squeezes me comfortingly. "They'll be fine," he says, as if reading my mind. "After all, they didn't know anything about it, did they?"

I give a small nod, and let him lead me away.

Our new, ungoverned lives began.

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**What do you think? Please leave me a comment. It makes my day!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Katniss' POV

**Hi! I'm so sorry I'm so slow at updating. At least this chapter's a bit longer ...**

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_Two__ - Katniss' POV_

By nightfall, we have lost sight of the JusticeBuilding, the highest building in District Twelve. The land has turned into a strange forest neither of us has been in before, with dark pine trees and a constantly soggy ground.

"Why don't we set up camp under those trees?" Gale suggests.

"In them, you mean," I make a face at the wet mud.

We manage to make two rolls of blankets, connected to each other by our rope, designed so that neither could fall. After eating some of our rations, we decide to sleep early and wake up early.

"Goodnight, Gale," I say, squeezing into my makeshift sleeping bag.

"Sweet dreams," he replies.

I think my mind is too winded up to sleep, but I doze off pretty quickly.

I wake just when the sky is brightening, and see Gale sitting on his branch.

"Good morning," I say as I make my way over.

"It is, isn't it?" He shuffles down and I sit next to him. We watch the sun rise, gradually casting its rays over the world.

"I wonder who was reaped," I say, suddenly remembering.

Gale takes my hand in his. "At least it's not us," he says.

"But … what about Prim?" I whisper.

"She was only in once, remember? There's next to no chance of that."

I hope he is right. "Well, I'll go pack our things up," I say. The blankets are rolled up into a small ball, and strapped tightly together. We have a small breakfast, then Gale insists on carrying the heavier backpack with our belongings, and I have our food and water.

At midday, we stop to have lunch on some rocks.

"We'll need to hunt soon," I say anxiously when we start walking again. My backpack feels uncomfortably light.

"When we find a suitable place," Gale agrees. There seems to be nothing but toads and insects inhabiting these woods.

Thankfully, the pine trees turn into 'proper', leafy ones and the dirt hardens. I breathe out in relief when I hear birds sing in the treetops, and we put our things down. Gale hands me my bow and full quiver, and in seconds I have shot a plump squirrel.

At the end of ten or so minutes, we have seven squirrels, two tree rats, and –

"A _possum_?" I ask incredulously, as Gale pulls the arrow out.

"I know. It almost got away while I was busy staring."

I laugh. Nothing gets away from Gale when he's decided to shoot it.

"We're going to have to stuff ourselves tonight," he continues. "How ironic …"

I know he is thinking about the starving people in District Twelve. "Don't be silly," I say lightly. "We'll put it in my fridge."

This brings a smile to Gale's lips – we'd only ever seen pictures of refrigerators at school.

"Why didn't you tell me? I suppose you've packed an oven, too. We could have done with that yesterday." His grey eyes sparkle.

"Hmm, yes, in the front zip," I say absently. "But what we really need is a river."

"How careless of us to have left ours' behind," Gale says. "But … with so many animals around, there must be a source of water nearby. You stay here, and I'll see if I can find it."

Some minutes of fidgeting after, Gale emerges with a grin. "You need to see this," he says, grabbing our belongings.

I ready my bow and follow.

There are so many holes and sticks which I feel as if were placed there solely for the purpose of tripping me up, I don't notice when Gale has stopped and continue on, almost falling off the cliff.

"Go on," Gale says.

I walk to the edge and gasp in amazement. Below is the most beautiful valley I have ever seen, including pictures in storybooks. The grass is astonishingly green, with patches of flowers littered everywhere. Birds sing in the trees, and in the sparkling stream that divides the valley in half, I can see huge fish.

"Pinch me," I whisper to Gale. He laughs and squeezes my skin gently.

"Harder," I say. "This can't be real."

"Pinch yourself," he says.

"It never works if I do it myself."

"If you want to wake up that badly, you can go back."

Of course, I don't, and I follow him down carefully on a pile of rocks. Looking at the wonderful scene, I can't help but think of Prim, who would love this.

"What do you think?" Gale asks.

I lie down on the grass, and look into the cloudy sky. "Mmm," I murmur.

He puts our things on the ground and sits next to me. "Hard to please, aren't you?"

"It's great," I say, turning my head. "Really. I mean, there are even some fruit trees. It's better than anything I could have hoped for."

"You don't sound convinced," Gale says, fiddling with a strand of my hair.

I sigh. "I miss Prim. And my mother, of course, but more than anything else, Prim."

"Would you have missed me if I'd left without you?"

"Yes," I responded automatically, and blushed. "I mean, who else is going to watch my back in the woods?" I add quickly.

"Oh," Gale says with a frown. Did I see … disappointment? But why?

I change the subject. "Do you miss Rory, and Vick and –"

"Posy? Yeah. More than I thought imaginable." Gale's attempt at a joke flops and he turns his head away.

I wrap my arm around his shoulders wordlessly. Maybe we really should have stayed home.

Before I can say this out loud, he faces me again with a small chuckle.

"Here we are, in this flawless haven and look at us." He jumps up. "Much as I enjoyed that position, I'd like to make the most of this place before we 'wake up'."

I laugh and follow him to the fruit trees. At least, I thought they were fruit – but on closer inspection, I admit I'd never seen them before. They are pale yellow, with blushes of pink and oval shaped.

"Are these safe to eat?" I wonder.

Gale picks one and studies it. "I think I've seen one before …" He cuts it open. Inside is the biggest pip I'd ever seen.

"Ah. Yes. These are mangoes," Gale says, cutting little squares into the meat. To my surprise, he flips it back to front and the squares pop out.

"Try it," he says with a grin.

I take it from him and nibble a corner. My eyes widen. "Delicious! Where in Panem did you see them before?"

Gale shrugs. "My father brought one home when I was little."

We spent the rest of the day eating mangoes and cooling off in the stream. Little did I know that this was the calm before the storm ...

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**Was that a cliffhanger? I wouldn't know, I've never done one before! Do ya feel the suspense? Do ya? *Creepy music plays* (JK, I know that was terrible.) Leave me a comment before you go! XD**


	3. Chapter 3 - Prim's POV

**Having a bit of trouble with the 'storm', so here's Prim's POV to keep you busy. Might do a chapter of this every 2 chapters of Katniss' POV.**

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_Three__ - Prim's POV_

"Katniss!" I call. "It's time to go." I poke my head in our bedroom, expecting to see her making the final touches on her dress. Instead, the room is empty.

I frown – she should have been back from hunting ages ago.

"Mother? Have you seen Katniss?"

"Hmm? Isn't she in the bedroom? I need to speak to her about leaving her kills on the table."

"No. Do you know where she might be?" I try not to let my panic show. I need Katniss here to comfort me, to assure me that I wouldn't be picked. Surely she wouldn't have _forgotten_ …

There is a quick rap on our door. I open it and see Hazelle Hawthorne, Gale's mother, standing nervously outside.

"Come in," I say warmly.

"No, no, I just wanted Gale. He's with Katniss?"

"Probably, but we don't know. Katniss isn't here either."

She looks fearful. "There's no note?"

I shake my head. "Why? They'll be back soon, won't they?"

"I'm not sure, darling. Could I please speak to your mother?"

I let her in, and lead her to the kitchen. My mother is laying out the squirrels and birds Katniss had left.

"Oh, hello, Hazelle. How can I help you?"

Hazelle glances at me.

"Prim, dear, why don't you get the bath ready for Katniss? Hazelle and I are just having a little chat."

I leave the room and shut the door behind me, but then press an ear to the door.

"This is about Katniss and Gale?" My mother's voice asks.

"Yes." Hazelle replies, so soft that I can barely hear her. "They – I believe Gale was planning – I don't know if Katniss –"

"Sit down," my mother says soothingly, with the faintest trace of a tremble. "Go on."

"Gale was hinting about leaving," Hazelle chokes out. "I told him it was an absurd idea, but I could tell he wasn't convinced. We were arguing about it last week. I said it would be too dangerous, and he said that he would be fine with Katniss alongside. I told him to leave your family out of it, but he didn't listen. He said, 'Just before the reaping' –"

There is a silence, and I fall onto my knees in horror. No. Katniss wouldn't agree. Katniss wouldn't abandon me.

"There, there," my mother says. I picture Hazelle sobbing quietly, and my mother comforting her while crying inside.

"What will we _do_?" wailed Hazelle. "Without their meat – Rory's working himself to the bone already – Vick and Posy –"

"You'll be fine," my mother cuts in. "We'll all be. How do we know that they're going? Maybe they've got a big deer, and they're lugging it home. Just think of what they'd be able to trade it for."

But I know better than to hope for that. Katniss and Gale don't hunt much before the reaping – there are too many Peacekeepers around. They're always back early.

Hazelle's sobs die down, though not because of hope. "I'm sorry, Clara. This is so selfish of me –"

"Nonsense. Thank you for letting me into your thoughts. However, the reaping is in ten minutes and –"

"Oh! Yes, I'd best be getting along. Thankfully Rory isn't old enough yet …"

I shiver despite the morning warmth, my heart starting to pound with fear again.

"All the best for Prim," Hazelle says softly. There is a scuffle, and the front door opens.

"Come again whenever you like," my mother says in a slightly strained voice. Then the door shuts.

I lean against the wall, my body numb. Katniss … gone … the two words didn't fit together. _Couldn't_ fit together.

"Prim?" My mother's voice calls, jolting my grieving.

"Yes," I say, walking into the kitchen. Apparently I look worse than I think.

"Oh, Prim," she whispers. "You heard?"

I nod lifelessly, and she envelopes me into a hug.

"I can't believe Katniss would _leave _us," I murmur. My voice seems a thousand miles away.

"Honey, you obviously haven't heard everything I said," my mother holds me at an arm's length, staring into my eyes seriously. "They've got a deer, okay?"

My small giggle gets caught in my throat.

"We've got to get going," my mother says gently after a while. "It's almost time."

I stay frozen to the spot as she straightens my dress and tidies my braids. "Let's tuck that shirt in," she says. "There. You look beautiful."

We join the crowd outside who are moving toward the stage.

"I have to go now," my mother says when the people start dividing into the seven lines. She points toward the first on the left. "You need to go with the other 12 year olds, but I'll be right there." She shows me the group of tear streaked parents.

I nod silently. It should be Katniss telling me this, Katniss reassuring me. I do as I am told, barely noticing when the woman pierces my finger.

"Go on," she orders. "Next."

I wonder what will happen when they notice Katniss' absence. She told me once that people are allowed to miss the reaping if you were close to death, but that Peacekeepers check their homes to make sure. Will they try and track her down, when they find out what happened? Will they punish me and my mother?

In the middle of the mayor's speech, I find the woman who signed in the 16 year olds, and follow her with my eyes as she pricks the last boy, gathers her files and walks toward a Peacekeeper with a slightly greyer uniform. I strain my ears to their conversation.

"– only Mr Gale Hawthorne and Miss Katniss Everdeen," she is saying.

The Peacekeeper frowns. "I doubt they are dying. But we've never had trouble from the younger ones before."

"Hmm. Don't forget that the younger they are the more hope they have, sir."

"You're right –" Suddenly, he stops. The woman sighs regretfully, but before I can figure out what has happened, they start talking again.

"The poor girl," the Peacekeeper says. "Anyway, we'll send a patrol around later. Thank you, Marcia."

Marcia dips her head respectfully, and I focus back to the reaping to notice Effie Trinket looking above the crowd, as if searching for someone.

"Primrose Everdeen!" she calls in her shrieking wail. "Come on up!"

Primrose? But that's my name. No. This couldn't be happening. The boy next to me pats my shoulder sympathetically, and Effie Trinket catches the move.

"Ah! There you are! Come up, Primrose!"

I force my legs to move, and I walk to the stage in a sort of trance.

As I walk up, I comb the somber faces for Kat – oh. Never mind. There is a slight disruption in the gaggle of mothers and a few fathers, and I see someone holding my mother up. Her hands covered her face, and her boney shoulders shook.

"Stand by me, Primrose," Effie sings. "And now, for the male tribute!" She walks over to the other bowl, and dips her hand in. She picks a slip of paper and clears her throat.

"Peetaaaaa Mellaaark!"

A blonde boy walks up, his expression carefully controlled.

The mayor begins the tedious Treaty of Treason which I don't listen to. Instead, I take in what will be one of my last sights of District 12, up to the old, electric fence that doesn't work. I am sure that Katniss and Gale escaped into the forest beyond.

The mayor finishes his speech, and nods for Peeta and I to shake hands. The anthem of Panem plays.

I have no memory of anything else that happens, up until I am lead to a room in the JusticeBuilding and left alone. This is the time for tributes to say goodbye to their loved ones.

My mother bursts in first, with red eyes and a red nose. She hugs me tightly, her tears starting again.

"It's okay," I whisper. "Don't cry." Of course, this makes her sob more.

I gently push her away after a few precious seconds.

"Now. I'm sorry that both Katniss and I won't be able to help you, but I'm sure Hazelle will. You are to accept any help offered, understand?"

She nods.

"You only have to manage on your own for a few weeks – I'll be back soon."

She gives me a weak smile.

"Milk Lady for me, and cuddle Buttercup! He likes to sleep with me when there's a storm, so remember to comfort him."

The door opens and a Peacekeeper walks in. "It's time," he says.

My mother wails. "I love you!" she cries as she is pushed outside.

"I love you more," I say. "Always."

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**Had a sudden idea before to make Peeta an Avox later in the story ... should I?**


	4. Chapter 4 - Katniss' POV

**Hi! Thanks so much to my beyond awesome reviewers: ****_shiloh, Guest, ImagineStation00, Sarah, Superhypercarrot _****and ****_Chandrika_****!**

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_Four - Katniss' POV_

_"Katniss!" Prim cries, trying to reach a hand out._

_I can only stare at her mangled body, covered with her blood._

_"You left me," she says sadly. "Left me to the mutts. Left me to die."_

_"No," I manage to croak. "No!"_

_I hear footsteps, and look up to meet the horrified glaze of my mother._

_"Didn't you care about us at all?" she sobbed. "Look what you did to Prim!"_

_"Not me," I cried. "It was the mutts!"_

_"But it was your fault, Katniss," they both hiss._

_My name echoes through the arena. Katniss …_"Katniss!"

I jolt awake, relaxing a little when I see Gale's soft grey eyes. He is leaning over me, frowning anxiously.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

I nod, and close my eyes against the dawning sun. Immediately I regret it, as pictures of the bear mutts flash in my mind again.

"Nightmares?" Gale brushes his thumb across my cheek, and I realize he's wiping away a tear.

"Just one. You wouldn't think it was possible, here." I try for a smile. I have a feeling it looks more like a grimace.

"Hmm."

"Go back to sleep," I tell him. At his protests, I add, "I'm fine. I've forgotten most of it, anyway." This is a lie, but it makes Gale relax and lie back down.

"Tell me if you need anything, okay?" He says with a yawn.

As soon as I think he's asleep I carefully get up, stretching my arms above my head. The valley looks just as perfect as yesterday, if not more. I'm beginning to get sick of it.

The flawless plants, the bright birds – it's like being in a fairytale.

And I don't belong in fairytales.

In _my_ world, twenty-four teenagers are being forced to kill each other in an annual event called the Hunger Games, until there is one lone victor. It doesn't exactly end with 'happily ever after'.

Since Gale is sleeping so soundly – though he barely snores – I get my bow, restock my quiver and walk through the small orchard to a shady forest.

I like it more here, because the green canopy blocks some of the over-cheerful sunshine.

We don't really need meat, so I just practice my shooting with a few falling leaves.

"Not bad." The voice startles me. I turn around sharply, my arrow aimed at his heart.

Gale grins and holds his hands up in surrender. "Jumpy today, aren't you?"

I scowl, lowering my bow. "Don't _ever_ sneak up on me like that again." I turn my back on him.

He laughs and hugs me from behind, sending my arrows scattering out of my quiver. "Don't act like you're not pleased to see me."

"I don't need to act," I mumble. "Do _not_ ruin my arrows.

I lean down to pick one up, and Gale loses balance. He falls and rolls down the slight slope, taking me with him.

We stop when we smack into a tree, laughing hysterically.

"Get off!" I squeal.

He chortles and tightens his hold.

I struggle for a few seconds, despite knowing he is stronger than me. As I lay on the ground, I realize uncomfortably how close our faces are.

"What's wrong, Catnip?" Gale asks when he realizes how still I have become.

"Nothing." An idea comes to me and I tickle him under his armpit.

To my surprise, he is on his feet in seconds and backing away.

I laugh so hard I am worried that I might crack a rib. "You never told me you were ticklish!" I choke out. "Make that _ridiculously_ ticklish."

"I'm just a bit … sensitive," he grumbles, which sets me off again.

After a while I am gasping for help. Gale pulls me up with an irritated glare.

"Sorry," I giggle when I have begun to subdue.

He grunts and heads back to our camp, me tailing behind.

I make breakfast – two slices of bread and cheese with half a mango each – which we eat sitting down.

"You have to tell me something _you_ hate now," Gale says, chewing his bread. "You know about my –" he coughs "– sensitivity."

"Apart from being sneaked up on?" I chew my piece of bread thoughtfully. "I guess I hate owing people. That nagging feeling on the back of my head – I hate it."

Gale nods. "Do you owe many people, currently?"

"Not really, but there's one person who did a lot for me." I remember shivering in the rain, and seeing those loaves of bread.

"Who, me?" Gale grins. "I agree. Putting up with you for all these years –"

"No," I snap. "Peeta Mellark. He saved my life, and Prim's."

Gale's expression is suddenly stormy. "Yeah? He – he stares at you a lot during school."

I feel myself turning red. "He's probably wondering when I'll repay him. Or maybe he's regretting it …"

"Of course. I just _loathe_ it when I save someone's life."

I stare down at my mango. "You don't understand. He got hurt for me."

Gale snorts and finishes eating in silence.

After breakfast, I find the stream and try to wash my hair.

"I'm filthy," I complain, "Thanks to all that rolling around on the ground."

Gale is sharpening his knifes next to me. "Mmm," he says absently. There seems to be something bothering him, and he's being very bad-tempered.

"Coin for your thoughts?" I say, fiddling with a knot in my hair.

"You don't have any money."

"It's a saying," I snap. "Get over it."

When I have succeeded in washing all the dirt and leaves off, I braid it back into my normal side-plait.

"I'm going to get my bow," I mutter, and run back to the forest to escape the awkward silence. What is _wrong_ with him?

Fortunately my bow is still where I dropped it, as are my arrows. I quickly gather them and feel a little better at the weight in my quiver. As I stand and start to head back, all the birds in the trees take off in unison, chirping and flapping frantically. At the same time, and huge shadow falls over the valley.

I peer up, my heart pounding. Where the blue sky was a second ago, a huge hovercraft now glided, blocking the sun.

After what seems like an eon, it moves on and the birds fly back as if nothing had happened.

I sprint back to the stream, but Gale isn't there. I search the orchard, our camp, I even go back to the forest. Gale is gone. _No_! What will the Capitol do –

"Catnip?"

I spin around and launch myself at him, making him stumble back with a laugh.

"You're okay," I whisper.

"Of course," Gale mumbles into my hair.

I stay against his chest until I have calmed down, then I push him away. "We need to go. _Now_."

I start stuffing our blankets back into our bags, handing him his knives.

"Whoa," says Gale. "Why the sudden hurry?"

I stare at him. "Maybe because the Capitol knows where we are?"

"How do you know that?"

"Because – because a freaking big hovercraft just passed and they must have seen our things, if they didn't see us!" My voice raises an octave.

"But it's _gone_," Gale says.

"Gale. _It can come back_."

I pack the rest of our stuff hurriedly, shove one to him and start walking. When I get to the pile of rocks, I hardly hesitate before climbing up.

"You coming?" I call without turning around. I'm slightly startled by the sigh that is right behind me.

"You wouldn't last a day without my expertise and intelligence," Gale says, striding up to my side.

"Which explains how I survived up to the day I met you," I retort.

"Barely. Admit it –"

"I know; I'll owe Peeta forever." I groan. Then a horrifying thought comes to me. "Oh, god – I hope he didn't get picked!"

Gale's jaw tightens. "_He_ wouldn't. He doesn't even need to take tesserae, being so rich with all that bread."

"Why are you so bitter?" I blurt angrily. "What has he ever done to you? _He's _the one who might be fighting in the Games, _he's _the one still stuck in District 12!" _Or at the Capitol, training _…

Gale mutters something unintelligible and sinks back into a surly silence.

Pretty soon we emerge in desert-like moorland and the trees disappear rapidly to short, spiky shrubs.

"Can you see anything in the distance?" I ask Gale, when my own eyes fail to find anything other than sand and more sand. He shakes his head.

"Great," I sigh. "I hope we have enough water." Not to mention that there is literally no shelter, from both the elements and any more hovercrafts.

"I wonder what our tributes were wearing for the chariot rides," I say, trying to make a conversation. There wasn't anything else to do – nothing to shoot, nothing but nothing.

Gale gives me a half-hearted smile. "Whatever it was, I don't envy them." The past chariot costumes had all been hideous suits of black, symbolizing the coal District Twelve mines for. Once the tributes had been naked, covered only with coal dust. I am pretty sure that the stylist had been fired.

"Do you think we'll have a victor this year?" I ask.

"Probably not. We probably won't have one until Haymitch dies, then the tributes will get a Gamemaker who is actually sober."

"But what if –" My words get cut off by a horribly familiar noise coming from the sky that I hoped never to hear again.

"Get down!" Gale roars, pushing me to the ground. The sand gets in my eyes and my mouth, but I don't care. Our backpacks are brown, which would camouflage us in any natural landscape _apart_ from deserts with their soft, yellow sand.

They've seen us, most certainly, but now what will they do? I think back to when we saw the boy being speared through the stomach, and the girl captured in the net.

Suddenly there is a huge explosion, sending me flying. I land heavily, winding myself, with a loud ringing in my ears and pain in one leg. By the time I can get up, the sand has cleared and the hovercraft is nowhere in sight. Neither is Gale.

* * *

**Wheeee! Another cliff-hanger. I think it may actually be worse that the previous, if that's possible. XP**

**Reviews are always appreciated, Followers and Favouritors (not a word) too!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Gale's POV

**Hi! Now that Katniss and Gale have parted, I've decided to do a chapter of Gale's POV, then Prim's, then Katniss', etc. **

**Enjoy! (Even though it's so short.)**

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_Five - Gale's POV_

"Get down!" I shout, shoving Katniss in the back.

The hovercraft isn't moving – I can tell by its shadow. Then something hits the ground in front of us, and we are flung out by the explosion. Sand rains down on me, but all I can think about is Katniss. Where is she? Will they bomb us again? I try to get up, but a sharp pain in my chest sends me down again. Then a huge net falls on top of me, tangling with my limbs. A sudden surge of panic almost paralyses me, but I will not die without a fight. I reach for my knife, and start hacking at the thick rope. But it must be made out of threads of steel, because the newly sharpened blade doesn't make a dent.

The net starts lifting, carrying me up into the hovercraft, and I hope with every fiber of my being that Katniss okay. There was so much I haven't told her yet, but perhaps she will make it to safety, wherever that is, and help rouse the rebellion someday. Her fire is hard to ignore.

A square trapdoor opens up in the hovercraft, and I am pulled inside to a tiny room with no source of light apart from the open trapdoor. The net crumbles, freeing me.

"Well, well. Who do we have here?"

The man looms over me, but I can't see his face clearly in the darkness.

"Should we get the girl, sir?" A voice asks behind him. _No_, I pray.

"Do we have time?" The man straightens and walks over to a wall as the trapdoor shuts. Something clicks and yellow lights turn on, allowing me to see clearly. There is a Peacekeeper, and a stocky, white-haired man wearing a bright purple suit.

The Peacekeeper pauses, and then says, "Perhaps the President will understand –"

"No, Thomas. The girl will very likely die out there, anyway. Tell the pilot to continue on, as quickly as possible."

The Peacekeeper bows, and leaves the room. The man turns to me. "What is your name?"

"Gale," I say without hesitation. Panem would at least know who I am – the rebel who took a chance. "Gale Hawthorne."

He scratches his head. "Ah. From Twelve?"

"Yes," I say with less certainty. What will they do now to my home district? Destroy it like they had Thirteen?

"Don't worry," the man says with a chuckle. "I won't harm your family."

I snort disbelievingly.

"I'm Plutarch Heavensbee," he continues. "The new Head Gamemaker."

"_Pleasure_ to meet you." I glare at him. "I hope you have something exciting prepared for the tributes." I'm proud to hear the clear hatred in my words.

He doesn't seem to understand my sarcasm. "Actually, it's quite normal this year. A forest, a field of wheat, sources of water spotted around the place. Of course, the new mutts will make up for that." He fingers his stubble thoughtfully. "Though, you know, maybe you're right. It needs something else. I might put in some Tracker Jackers. Old, but still thrilling. Anything else, do you think? Carnivorous butterflies?"

He finally notices my not-so-enthusiastic expression. "No? You don't like it? Hmm … perhaps you've got a point. Too pretty?"

A knock on the door saved him from a punch in the face. "We've arrived, sir."

"Good." Plutarch glances at me. "Leave him here, I think. I won't take more than half an hour."

"Won't you let me see the wonderful Capitol?" I smirk.

"Of course. Bring him to the front room, will you, but get someone to keep an eye on him at all times."

So he isn't a complete idiot, after all. Shame. Though what would I have done if I'd escaped? I'd stick out like a sore thumb in the crowds of these crazy, neon coloured people.

Even though I hate everything about it, I can't help but gasp when I see the Capitol's perfect, white buildings, its sculptured marble fountains, its tidy gardens. And most of all, its _people_. Almost half of them were part animal, too.

"Quite something, isn't it?" Plutarch says happily. "Now. As I said before, I'll be back soon."

When he is gone, I stare out the huge window, ignoring the Peacekeeper's burning gaze on my back.

We have landed among some other hovercrafts – an airport, I think it's called. I never paid much attention in school. But I have a pretty clear view of the streets, and I'll give one thing to citizens: they go into extreme methods to be unique. I am so occupied with watching the people in a nearby café that I don't notice when Plutarch has come back, until he taps me on the back.

"Come with me," he says, walking into another room. "Go!" he orders over his shoulder at the pilot. "Coin says the last place is fine."

"Coin?" I ask, bewildered.

He locks the door behind us. "Can I trust you?"

While we fly to District Thirteen, as Plutarch tells me later, he fills me in on the rebellion that is brewing dropping the foolish Gamemaker façade. Unable to keep a grin from spreading over my face, I fire questions at him restlessly.

"How long has it been going on for?"

"Not so long, we had to be sure of who to trust –"

"Who is with us?"

"Well, there are several people from your district, and we've had a surprising many from the Capitol, and of course all of District –"

The hovercraft stops moving, and I realize we've landed again. Plutarch leads me out of and onto the dry 'roof' of Thirteen, then underground.

The citizens are solemn faced, dressed in military uniforms. A couple of curious glances are thrown my way, but the soldiers seem focused entirely on their roles.

Plutarch takes me through countless corridors, before stopping in front of a huge double door. "Keep calm, and be polite. Or just don't say a word."

Then he pushes it open. The first thing that I see is a group of people, crowded around a television. Then I spot a cruel looking woman standing not far off, staring at me.

Plutarch clears his throat. "This is Gale Hawthorne," he begins to her. "I found him wandering around the StoneDesert."

I don't hear anything else he says, or Coin's response, because I am too busy watching the television. It is showing the last half of the entrance parade. District 7 is dressed in planks of wood, welding axes … District 9, in wheat costumes … District 12. In _flames_. I am grinning, wondering who the stylist is, until I recognize the girl.

* * *

**Yeah, I was going to get Gale carried off to the Capitol, but I couldn't bear it. Sorry.  
You're welcome to yell at me during your reviews. ;P**

**Prim's POV next! See you then!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Prim's POV

**Hi! Thanks to everyone who's decided to read this far. Enjoy! **

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_Six__ - Prim's POV_

Peeta squeezes my hand comfortingly as the horses start walking forward. We are greeted by a shocked silence, then a deafening roar from the audience – the other tributes are forgotten instantly.

I have to admit, Cinna has done an amazing job. My hair is flowing down my back, with orange and red highlights. I have red and gold eyeliner and a little bit of pink blush.

And I have wings and a halo that are ignited with fire.

'The angel and the prince,' Cinna had grinned. Peeta being the prince, with a cape and a crown.

And the Capitolites love us. They are throwing us flowers, screaming our first names. I feel flattered that they bothered to look us up on their programs.

Peeta catches a rose, and hands it to me with a bow. He raises our clasped hands above our heads, and the crowds go even wilder. I guess our partnership is a first.

We arrive in the City Circle, in front of President Snow's mansion, where the Panem anthem is played. Then we slowly roll into the Training Centre, and I turn around to blow a parting kiss. The people closest to our chariot squeal and reach out to grab the air, and I smile.

"You were fabulous!" said Cinna, taking off our accessories and spraying them with a white powder that extinguishes the flames.

Effie pats my cheek. "You looked absolutely _lovely_, darling."

"Where's Haymitch?" asks Peeta.

"Off receiving your sponsors!" Portia grins. "I bet you have lots already, and you still have the interviews and training scores to go!"

This makes me feel reassured, though I know I won't be very good at training. Katniss was always the one with the weapons.

We take the elevator to our living area, which is the most luxurious place I have seen. My temporary bedroom has pink walls, and pearly white furniture with pink designs.

"Enjoy!" trills Effie, as if it was possible to do anything else.

I take off my boots before I enter, not wanting to leave dirty footprints on the cream carpet.

The bathroom has the same colour scheme, with such clean and polished tiles. Yes, it's a change from District Twelve, where almost everything is covered with coal dust.

When I get into the shower, I hesitate at the dozens of different buttons. Why do they not have labels? Squeezing my eyes shut, I select a random one and get squirted in the back with some sort of goo that smells like lavender. Hoping that it is shower gel, I press the only predictable button – a blue knob shaped like a droplet of water – and soak for at least ten minutes.

Finally I get out and wrap myself in one of the fluffy white towels. There are new clothes laid neatly on my bed; an Avox must have put them there for me. I put on the light green dress and find my shoes outside the door.

Everyone is having dinner, and I notice Haymitch talking to Peeta with a frown.

"But she's not –" Haymitch stops when he sees me.

"Hey, Prim," grins Peeta, turning around. "How'd you like the showers?"

"They were … one of a kind," I say. "What were you talking about?"

"Oh, this and that," says Haymitch, waving a fork in the air. "Try some of this lamb stew."

I fill a bowl obediently, aware that he is trying to change the subject.

"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" asks Peeta, before I can say anything.

"Training!" says Haymitch, too brightly. "When you're there, practice weapons, but don't forget the survival skills. Watch out for the other tributes – take notes on their weaknesses if they show any."

"What are you good at?" Peeta asks me.

"Nothing. Nothing that will help me survive, anyway."

"I'm sure you have something," Peeta encourages. "Ever used a knife, or a spear, or a bow?"

"Yes, a butter knife," I say. "And spear_mint_, which my mother uses sometimes for healing. And –"

"You'll learn in training," says Haymitch, but when he thinks I'm not looking, he shoots a meaningful look at Peeta.

After a fitful night, I put on the clothes that an Avox has again left me, and head for the dining table. Effie is there, sipping from a pink mug, but Haymitch and Peeta are absent.

"Hello, dear," Effie greets me. "Help yourself."

"Where are the others?" I ask her.

"Still sleeping, I think," she says. "Do you think this suits me?"

She gets up and does a little twirl, showing off her jade green dress.

"Uh … yes," I say. "The dress is nice." I can't say the same for her wig, which looks likes someone puked in her hair, or her makeup, which looks like she is about to puke herself.

Just then, Peeta walks in. "Good morning," he says, raising an eyebrow at Effie. "Nice."

"Thank you!" she shrills. "I'm going sponsor-hunting today! I want everyone to know that District 12 isn't dependant on an unfashionable, drunken man."

_No, we're also dependant on a sick, overenthusiastic woman who talks three octaves higher than normal_.

"Who are you calling drunk?" says Haymitch, coming to sit next to me. "I only had two bottles last night – Chaff drank four!"

Effie mutters something under her breath, and then holds out a jug of juice to me.

"What flavour is it?" I ask. I've had orange and apple juice so far.

"Pineapple."

I've never even seen a pineapple before, but I decide to give it a go. Capitol people may have strange 'fashions', but their food is usually brilliant.

"So. Training," starts Haymitch, "is very important. You must make the most of every second, and concentrate. Do _not_ get friendly with the other tributes."

He says that in a tone which makes me wonder if he'd made friends, and regretted it. A name pops up from my memory of a replay of the 50th Hunger Games. _Maysilee_.

"Prim?" Peeta peers at me.

"Oh, sorry. Just daydreaming."

"Which is something you mustn't do during training," reminds Haymitch. "You'll need to focus, because the tiniest bits of information might help save your life."

After a quick breakfast, we are off to training.

"Good luck!" says Effie.

"Form alliances," says Haymitch, looking at Peeta.

He puts his arm around my shoulders, and Haymitch tightens his jaw.

"What was that about?" I ask Peeta when the elevator doors have closed.

"We've had a … disagreement," he says. "Nothing you should worry about."

'But isn't it about me?' I almost ask, but the elevator doors open and a girl around my age walks in. She is backed by an enormous boy who towers over me. I can't help but take a step back.

The girl looks at me curiously, and I give her a tentative smile.

She smiles back. "Hi, I'm Rue."

"Hey, Rue. I'm Primrose." Peeta shoots me a warning look, but I don't care.

The elevator doors open again, and I know right off that the pair who enter are Careers.

The boy smirks at Rue and I, and looks at Peeta and Rue's district partner as if sizing them up.

The girl mutters something in his ear, and they laugh.

Then thankfully we get to the top floor, where the training gym is. A lady explains the rules, and we are left to explore the stations.

"Can we work with you?" Rue asks.

I glance at Peeta, who gives me the tiniest shake of his head. "Sure," I say warmly.

Rue giggles and I'm sure she saw our exchange. "This is Thresh," she says, pulling on the muscular boy's arm. He smiles at me and nods to Peeta.

"Let's go to the …" I spin around in a slow circle, looking at all the stations.

"Knife throwing?" suggests Thresh.

I look over there, frowning nervously. "But I have no idea how to."

"Training's about learning, right?" pipes Rue, taking my hand.

I reluctantly agree.

"What about the survival skills?" Peeta hisses in my ear. "What about _anything_ Haymitch said?"

"It's not like I can defend myself with herbs," I say. "Fat lot of good knowledge of edible plants will do me in a sword fight." I ignored his second question. Rue was the closest thing I had to a friend since the reaping.

I pick up a small knife from the rack and face the targets.

"Go on," Rue prompts.

I hurl it as hard as I can, and it sinks into the wooden board just right of the centre.

"Wow," whispers Rue. Thresh's face is unreadable.

"Beginner's luck," I say, partly to myself. I had very rarely _touched _proper knives before, and even then only to chop vegetables or cut bandages.

Rue has a turn, but almost misses the target.

"I'll throw the knives for us, then," I joke.

Her disappointed expression brightens. "You'll be our allies?"

Oh … I guess 'us' did mean that. I look at Peeta, whose face has become closed off, and Thresh. "Um … do you want us?"

"Yes!" Rue grins.

Peeta butts in before I can say anything. "We'll talk to Haymitch, and you'd better talk to …"

"Seeder and Chaff," Thresh says.

"Yeah. Now, if we're done with the knives –"

"But you haven't had a turn, Blondie."

I turn around sharply to see the Career girl from 2 walking over, with a smile that makes my blood run cold.

"Hey, Cato!" she calls over her back. "Come see the losers from 12 _fail_."

Her district partner joins her with the Career tributes from 1.

"So," the girl says tauntingly. "Show us what you've got."

"Aw, don't be too harsh on them, Clove!" the boy from One says with a smirk. "They probably can't tell the blade from the handle."

"Shut it, Marvel." Clove nods toward Peeta. "Go on."

He clenches his fists, yanks a knife from the rack and throws it. It misses completely.

The Careers erupt into loud laughter, drawing everyone else's attention to us. Peeta looks livid, Rue terrified, Thresh … blank. Before I can stop myself, I walk up to the knife rack and pick a similar one to the one I'd thrown before.

Taking a deep breath, I aim … and the blade imbeds itself in the centre of the target.

The whole gym is silent now, and I turn toward the Careers.

"Don't _ever_ mess with my friends," I say in a cool, clear voice. Then I turn and walk to the fire-making station. "Come on, guys."

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**I just didn't want Prim to be so ... helpless, you know? I mean, with Katniss in the family it's almost illegal to be dull. Not that she was before. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated! Katniss' POV next. **


	7. Chapter 7 - Katniss & Gale's POVs

**Sorry I took so long; I went to Port Fairy. It was awesome!  
****Thanks to ****_Hawkstar_**** and ****_ImagineStation _****for your lovely reviews.**

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_Seven__ – Katniss & Gale's POV_

_Katniss – _

A slight movement in the sand near me makes me freeze. I position my bow slowly, careful not to attract any attention to myself.

The snake's arrow-shaped head rises just above the ground, and I follow its unblinking yellow glaze to an ignorant rodent crouched a metre or so away. My stomach growls.

I want the mouse – I've been living off stale bread and squirrel so far – but the snake would get it anyway and I'd just loose an arrow. I'd shoot the snake, but a few attempts in the past had shown me just how tough their scales are.

The snake is coiling itself up like a spring, ready to attack at any moment. If it bites the mouse and poisons it, it would be useless to me.

And idea comes to me and I shoot an arrow several metres away. The snake hesitates, turning toward where the arrow lands with a thud.

The mouse, also hearing the sound, freezes. Slowly the snake slithers away, and I quickly kill the mouse.

Then I continue travelling on.

It seems that this desert had no end. I've been walking for five days, and if I don't find civilization soon, I'll go mad.

Night falls, and I drink the last of my water. The roasted mouse is quickly devoured, and then I try to fall asleep. I wonder where Gale is before I drift off … and if he's alive.

The next morning, I wake with stiff limbs and a horribly dry throat. Packing my few things away, I set off again.

I don't really know where I'm going. Just on, I suppose. I'd lost the will to live a couple of days ago, which seemed like months. I'd lie down right now and wait for death if it weren't for Gale. As long as he was alive (in my knowledge) I'll do my best to remain so.

At noon, when the sun is right above me, I come to an old fence which stretches across the land, barring my way. At least, I think it is there, because I may well be hallucinating.

I am not completely sure until I prick myself on a sharp wire. The tiny drop of blood that wells up seems so much redder against the pale sand.

Hope rises in my heart – maybe some people live here! I hurriedly make my way over the fence.

The ground is of hard, flat soil, strange to walk on as I have become used to every step sinking into sand.

"He –" I break off into a raspy cough. I haven't talked in days. "Hello? Is anybody here?" I try again.

There is a silence, but I refuse to give up. "I'm Katniss Everdeen!" I call. "And I, uh, come in peace!"

Still no one replies, if anyone is here at all … _but they have to be_. I have to find food, and more importantly, water. I start walking around, hoping to find some indication of human life. But I can't even see any of the dry shrubs that littered the desert, so dry is this place.

My thirst grows as the hours wear on, and my eyes start becoming unfocused. By late afternoon, my throat is burning and I have to drag my feet across the dirt and dust. I was wrong. There are no people living here, or anywhere else.

Finally, I curl up under a tree and close my eyes. I guess this isn't the worst way to die – and I will be free of the Capitol and the Hunger Games. But Gale … if only I know where and how he is. And Prim … I apologize to her in my mind for every time I'd teased her, and for running away. A leaf from the tree falls onto my face, but I don't have the energy to brush it away.

Wait … a leaf? A tree?

I have just enough time to frown before the heat overwhelms me and I sink into darkness.

* * *

_Gale – _

"We need to find Katniss!" I shout, looking pleadingly at Plutarch and President Coin. "Please. She's the girl who was with me. She – her sister – _please_ can you find her?"

Plutarch looks bewildered, Coin … I can't tell.

"This Katniss," she says, "Is she a trained soldier? Is she a Capitolite, with information that could help us? Is she as good with weapons as our top fighters?"

"She – well – "

"I thought not," says Coin. "Well, I'm sorry to inform you that I don't send our rescue squad for anyone other than the most useful soldiers. I am quite busy, so if you don't mind." She walks past me and to the door.

"You can live in Compartment 672," she says over her shoulder. "Mr. Heavensbee will give you a tour. Welcome to District 13, Soldier Hawthorne."

"But – wait!" I stumble after her. "Katniss is good with a bow. The best. And she can use knives."

Coin only keeps walking.

"Katniss will die out there!" I shout, feeling panic rise steadily. "And I love her."

Coin stops, and I relax slightly. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says in the same monotone voice, and walks out.

I stare after her.

"Come on," someone says behind me. I remember Plutarch is there, but don't turn around.

A hand rests on my shoulder. "I'll show you to your Compartment."

I shake my head slowly. "She's not going to help Katniss," I say, a decision forming, "So I will." I duck under his hand and sprint out before he can stop me. Some soldiers are just heading up the trapdoor.

"Wait!" I yell, and dash through them. Outside on the barren roofs of District 13, I search for the hovercraft. I wish I'd paid more attention to where it was parked.

It is out of sight, so I wrack my memory for its surroundings. There were a couple of trees, I remember; like at the edge of the forest.

Which is where I go, sparing no time. Unfortunately for me, the forest is larger than 12's, and I am out of breath one sixth around the width.

"Katniss … hold on," I pant, leaning against a tree. _Stupid hovercraft. Why in Panem couldn't it have been parked outside the entrance? _

As I regain my breath, a shining object catches my eye. The sun's rays are reflecting off it, so I have to struggle to perceive.

As I get closer, I see it is a silver locket, spilling out of a bag next to a girl. She is curled in a fetal position, her dark hair loose of her braid; her face turned the other way …

"Katniss?" I gasp, dropping to my knees beside her. "Katniss, are you okay?"

She seems to be unconscious, her expression set in a slight frown. I put my hand to her cheek, and my heart sinks to find it boiling hot.

Scooping her up in my arms, I rush back to the trapdoor.

"Help!" I shout. "Let me in!"

The second the lid is opened, I shove past the annoyed soldier and rush back to the meeting room. To my relief, Plutarch is still there.

"Do you have doctors?" I ask him frantically.

His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Follow me," he says.

* * *

**So now that Katniss and Gale are back together, it'll be Katniss' POV and Prim's POV ... unless you like Gale's better?  
Reviews make my day, thank you again for reading my story!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Prim's POV

**Thanks for continuing to read my story! This chapter was very fun to write.**

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_Eight__ – Prim's POV_

As Thresh's name is called, I grip Peeta's hand anxiously. He gives a little chortle.

"What?" I ask.

"Of all of us, you should be worrying the least. Just chuck some knives, and they'll be at your feet."

"But I can't _just_ do that," I point out. "It's not a knife throwing competition; it's also about survival –"

"I'm not going to say 'I tried telling you that'." He snorts at my glare. "Just kidding – I made us go to those stations anyway. Unless you're telling me you forgot everything you learnt …?"

I sighed. "No, but I probably will the second I go in. My brain works that way."

"No you won't. And even if you do, you'll get a fair score with your knives."

"Thanks. And what will you do?" I ask him.

"Throw some weights, I guess." Peeta shrugs. We found out how strong he is when he lifted the just about fully loaded knife rack out of my way during training.

"You're also good at camouflage," I say.

"Yeah, like you can paint someone to death."

"It's possible," I murmur. "If you use poisonous berries for the colour. Or they choke on it. Or you use it to distract them while you kill them."

"Thinking like a Career," Peeta grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I am shocked myself for these thoughts; they never would have entered my mind a week ago.

Peeta and I stay silent until my name is finally called.

"Good luck," he says.

"Thanks; you too." I take a deep breath and walk into the examination room. I stand before the Gamekeepers and state my name clearly, but only a couple bother to look up.

"_Excuse me_," I call, with a hint of annoyance. The majority of them raise their heads this time, and I quickly grab a knife before they loose interest.

I hit one of the practice dummies in the heart, and hear a few surprised murmurs. Satisfied that I have their attention, I begin my performance.

The Panem anthem plays, and Claudius Templeton appears on our TV screen.

"This is the moment sponsors are waiting for! It's time for … the tribute's scores!" He goes on to explain how we've been training for it, etc, etc. Haymitch taps his feet impatiently and Effie fiddles with her dress.

Then the scores are shown, the Careers' ranging higher than most … Rue's face materializes on, followed by the number seven. I beam, wondering what she did. Finally it's our turn. Peeta scores an eight, and I … a ten.

Effie squeals and throws her arms around me, while Haymitch pats Peeta on the back.

"Well _done!_" smiles Peeta.

I hug him. "Same to you."

"You must have more than just 'thrown knives into a dummy' then," Haymitch says with a broad grin.

"Well, there'll be no end of sponsors for you two," Effie gushes. "Especially after your interviews!"

"Speaking of them, we'll start preparing you for them tomorrow. I suggest you get a good night's sleep, because you'll need all your energy for it." Haymitch gets up and pours another glass of white liquor. "Be very proud," he adds over his shoulder as he saunters away.

"How will you prepare us?" I ask Effie, stifling a yawn.

She winks. "You'll see. I don't think you'll have much trouble with it, though."

But I do. Especially with her part of the 'preparing'.

"No, no, anyone could see you're faking!" she screeches, pinching my cheeks.

"So?" I back out of reach of her long nails. "Of course I'm faking! I'm going to be in the _Hunger Games_, for God's sake. Any genuine smile is not going to come when I'm being interviewed about my past life."

Effie clucks her tongue. "Which is why you must learn to fake it, dearie. You say you're going to be portrayed as sweet? Sweetness does not come with scowls and glares!"

"I don't scowl and glare normally," I snap. "It's only when –"

"See, you can't snap at Caesar either," she scolds. "Now, let's try it again." She clears her throat and makes her voice deeper. "How are you enjoying the Capitol, Primrose? It must be so _different_ from District Twelve." She said my home like it was a rubbish dump.

I force my lips into a stiff smile. "Yes, I think it's brilliant! Everyone's been so nice; Haymitch is very supportive." She did say to exaggerate.

"Better!" Effie beams. "I think you'll be okay after all!"

"_Thanks_," I mutter. "A whole hour of this, and I'll only be 'okay'?"

"Keep the smile on!" she reminds.

Cinna has made me shut my eyes before putting on my dress, but it feels very heavy, especially around the shoulders.

"What is it _made_ of?" I complain, lifting my arms up as he does the adjustments.

"I could tell you, but you probably wouldn't understand. You'll have an idea by the end of your interview though," he says. "All right, you can see now."

I open my eyes and gasp. I am wearing a beautiful, long white dress with flame designs at the seams which seem to flicker and dance when I move. I also have a golden halo, held up by wires as thin as silk. My makeup is similar to what I had in the opening ceremony, and my hair in a cascade waterfall braid.

I look at Cinna with deep gratitude. This would at least give me a chance.

"Could you do something for me while you're up there?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Near the end, twirl twice. Please?"

"Sure," I murmur. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he says. "Now go and make me proud."

I find Peeta, and we wait with the other tributes backstage. I see Rue, in a light blue dress.

"You look so pretty!" I grin at her.

She smiles and blushes. "Thanks. You too!"

Then we hear loud music and excited cheering, and Caesar Flickerman's voice booms from the speakers, announcing the 74th Hunger Games Tribute Interviews. Glimmer, the Career from One goes onto the stage first.

When it's Rue's turn, I wish her good luck and watch with a smile as she answers Caesar's questions shyly and sweetly.

Way too soon, it's my turn. My hands clammy, I walk onto the stage with a practiced smile.

"Primrose! How are you today?" Caesar asks.

"I'm fine, thank you. Please call me Prim." I look into the front row and see Cinna giving me thumbs up.

"So, Prim, I think I'd better get to the point. I'd bet all of my money everyone here is dying to know how you got your score!"

"Not all of it, though. You're going to need some when you sponsor me," I joke. He laughs and so does the audience. "I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you yet," I continue. "But I'll certainly show you in the arena!"

"All right." Caesar waits until the people have quietened down. "Now, Prim, tell us a bit about your family. Do you have any siblings?"

I freeze. _Does he know about Katniss? _"Um …" I swallow. "I had a sister."

"Had?" Caesar asks.

I am asking that myself. "She's – she's dead," I say. I suppose she could be, as far as I know.

"Oh. I'm sorry," says Caesar, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I arrange my features into a smile. "It's all right. And Peeta's been like a big brother to me." Some 'aww's can be heard.

"In fact, so many people have helped me. Haymitch isn't nearly as drunk as I expected!" The audience roars with laughter. "And Cinna is pure incredible." I stand up and spin around. I only intended to show everyone the dress properly, and what happens next shocks me as much as it does them.

White, feathered wings unfurl from my shoulders, spreading as far as my arms stretched out.

"Do it again!" shouts Caesar over the appreciative noises by the audience.

So I twirl a second time, and the wings and my halo burst into flames. The 'ooh's and 'ahh's turn into shrieks of amazement.

"I – I don't think they're real ones," I say after a few seconds. "I can't feel anything."

"Wow," says Caesar. The buzzer goes for the end of my interview.

"Well." He stands up, takes my hand and swings it up. "Ladies and gentlemen – Primrose Everdeen, the Angel Aflame!"

* * *

**So. How was it? Please, please send me a review! The next chapter shall be in Katniss' POV, until further change of mind.**

**P.S. If you have time, please check out my new Hunger Games/Harry Potter crossover, Wanted. :D**


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